“There has been a change in the cartel process; they are going to have air cover for the money convoy. A Huey gunship with a team of gunman will be surveying the route ahead of the convoy and will be available if things go bad. We’ll have to deal with them, but I can’t see any other changes to our plan. I’m right there with the ship cloaked so I’ll whack the chopper out of the air with the ships plasma cannon.” says D.
“Has our security been compromised,” I ask.
“Nope, I think this is the cartel being very careful given the loss of several boatloads of product. They are reviewing and tightening their own processes and security.” replies Frosty.
“So their chopper is no big deal for us is what I am hearing as long as it is shot out of the sky. We sure as hell don’t want the gunman on the site of the hi-jack as that will really screw the pooch.” I mutter.
“Why would it cause carnal relations with a dog, Matt,” asks D innocently.
“Boss, what in the hell are you talking about?” inquires Beast.
“It’s an expression that means that it would significantly alter and endanger our ground plans,” smiles Frosty.
“Well Matt, why didn’t you just say that? Why be cryptic and difficult to understand.” asks D.
“Sorry guys, it’s just a characteristic of human communication to use slang phrases which are unrelated to the task at hand. I know you will handle the chopper for us.” I offer.
“You humans are certainly a strange complex and illogical lot and your humor is just difficult!” sighs D shaking her head.
Beast nuzzles my hand.
Later as D and I lay spent in one another’s arms.
“Matt, are you awake?”
“No, I’m asleep and dreaming I just had sex with beautiful, highly intelligent sentient Artilect.”
“It’s real silly, it’s no dream”
“Oh, then I must be awake”
“I don’t understand why humans are so addicted to drugs, alcohol, and other things.”
“Jesus D, I’m too sleepy to answer that.”
“No you’re not, come on help me out, I need your input.”
“I just gave you my input”
“Not like that silly, about humans’ and addictions.”
“Ok, well as far as I know I don’t think there is an explanation why some are and some aren’t. Some are addicted by choice as they cannot resist the pleasure the drugs or alcohol bring them. Some, because they are hiding from reality in the pleasure of the addiction. Yet others it is never an issue, they may try it and occasionally use drugs or alcohol but it never grips them the way it does some folks. So it seems that the person’s character has much to do with addictions.”
“Do you suppose it is a human design malfunction to have such susceptibility to addictions?”
“Hmm, not specifically, I think humans require a high degree of feeling and sensitivity to be human, to feel empathy for others. It strikes me that the process of addiction leeches onto the pleasure, empathy characteristics of human’s character. So I would suggest that humans naturally have by design a high susceptibility to addiction.”
“Are those the only reasons?”
“Oh heavens no D, development environments, parents influence, childhood curiosity, television, news, teenage insecurity and desire to fit in and be cool, poverty, greed, ego, stress, anxiety, a feeling of inadequacy, need help to keep up, customs and traditions, drugs and alcohol are an accepted norm in society today. And sadly enough are heavily taxed and encouraged by governments for revenue.”
“Humans are so illogical; so much of their character construct make up is emotional, so much of what they do and how they interact is a function of emotion rather than logic and facts. Humans are just very difficult to emulate and predict accurately from one human unit to another. There seems no absolute template and each is different than the last.”
“Yes D, you are absolutely correct. We refer to each human as unique.”
“It makes me wonder how humanity has managed to get as far as it has.”
“From what I have learned studying humanity and society it seems humanity is stagnant for long periods and then for very subtle reasons jumps ahead in substantial leaps and then goes stagnant again. It seems to be a process that has been repeated multiple times over the centuries of our existence. The curious aspect about these evolutionary jumps is that they are hugely significant leaps forward for humanity. So much forward and radical that it appears that there has been outside interference.”
“Define outside interference.”
“Like a superior race of intelligence has introduced the concept and showed us how to use it.”
“Yet humans are very resistant to change, evolution, development aren’t they?”
“Most are very resistant and reluctant to change; some will change if you can present them a good positive argument to change. Others are completely terrified of change and refuse to even consider it. Some will actually go to war to resist change.”
“Yes, so I see, often humans defy their collective intelligence and really act extremely odd.”
“Therefore...” I murmur as I grab her ass. “You might want to be very careful how human like you become, my uber hot, horny, Artilect lover!”
“Come here my human sex toy, show me what you got!” giggles D delightfully.
So I did, as hard and as long as I could. It was fucking awesome, literally!!
Chapter 10: Smoke and Fire
We are on station and set to go. D is monitoring the comm channels and has the chopper on radar display, the ships plasma cannon is tracking the hopper. Frosty is set with his backpack flame thrower, smoke grenades and his silenced 9mm Glock. Beast is armed with his backpack of low power rockets. I am armed with my plasma rifle, and ready with the explosives, in the combat suit and in the harness clipped under the quad copter. Mongo is programmed and set with his pallet forks and a pre-positioned map as to where to set the pallets of money in the ship.
“Ok Matt, here we go,” says D as she opens the loading bay doors.
The cloaked invisible quad copter with me underneath drops down from the ship and heads towards the rearmost cartel gunman Suburban escort. I have my explosive charge ready and place it gently on the roof of the Suburban as we fly overhead. Then gain altitude and speed up catching up to the semi. I jockey around to get position and place the gas explosive charge on the roof of the cab. Last is the lead Suburban cartel gunman escort vehicle, I attach the last magnetic explosive charge on its roof and veer up and away and move back to a strategic position by the semi-trailer.
“Explosives in place,” I radio to the team.
The rear Suburban explodes spewing fire, shrapnel and body parts across the road. The burning debris slides to a stop blocking the highway. The charge on the semi explodes next releasing choking smoke and toxic gas into the cab. Immediately it gets on the brakes and slows quickly to the edge of the highway and stops. The lead Suburban explodes in a flash and roar and nicely blocks the road at the head of the convoy. Last but not least the Huey helicopter explodes in a flash of light and is consumed in flames and falls out of the sky onto the desert in a burning smoking pile of rubble.
D brings the cloaked ship around and sets it down close to the semi-trailer. Beast is first out and sprints off to examine the remains of the escort Suburbans and kill any survivors. Frosty is next with his flame thrower and smoke grenades. Mongo lumbers out of the ship and stomps over to the semi-trailer. He rips the back doors off and slides his pallet forks under the first of 20 pallets, lifts the pallet effortlessly and turns lumbering back to the ship and placing it in the prescribed location. Then back to the semi-trailer for the next pallet, nineteen to go.
Frosty releases the smoke grenades around the parameter of the ship and the semi-trailer, then proceeds to the wrecked escort vehicles to soak them in burning oil and make a hell of a big bonfire so no traffic can get close. I am on over watch with the plasma rifle to take care
of anything that might slip through the cracks, and to keep an eye out for any traffic either way. So far the road is clear. Mongo is doing an excellent job and is quicker at his task that we anticipated; the count of pallets in the ship has now reached fifteen. I make one last scan of the clear highway in both directions and drop down closer to the ship and semi-trailer.
The driver’s door of the semi-trailer bursts open and the driver wearing a gas mask and waving an Uzi sub machine pistol falls out of the cab. As he hits the pavement the Uzi fires a burst, and Beast is on him in a second ripping him to shreds. Unfortunately two of the rounds from the wildly fired Uzi strike me in the chest. It feels like I have been hit twice with a sledgehammer, things go dark and I can’t breathe. I vaguely hear D talking to me and I think I feel Beast nuzzling my hand and his cold nose against my face, then darkness.
The next thing I know Daria and I are in a beautifully simple virtual construct. Shockingly white sand on the beach, like a snow field, so bright it hurts your eyes. Ocean dark blue on the horizon becoming lighter and lighter in shade as the waves roll in to the shore until the water is transparent with a skim of froth as it hisses up the beach. The sky is a mirror of the water, dark far on the horizon with a scattering of flat bottomed puffy clouds, We sit in the sand under the shade canopy of a couple of coconut trees that thrust upward and stare out to the ocean. The beach curves away in both directions completely devoid of other people. A slight breeze puffs and waves Daria’s hair. It’s a perfect spot to repair broken bodies, feed our souls, rest, relax, and have sex, plenty of sex. The hormonal surges of multiple orgasms make short work of breaking down the stress and accumulated tensions. The beauty and serenity of the construct sooths us and we relax into a hypnotic state. The four to one ratio of virtual time to real time that D is running this virtual construct at allows us plenty of time for therapy with very little real word time having elapsed.
“Jesus D, am I dead?’
“No silly, we are just resting and recuperating for a while.”
“I got shot, twice, how clumsy is that, it really fucking hurt!”
“I know it did my darling, the suit kept the bullets out and you alive, but you’re badly bruised.”
“My chest doesn’t hurt now,”
“I know, because I did not allow the damage to be brought into our virtual construct.”
“How long has it been?’
“In real-time it has been three days since you were shot,”
“Christ, did we get the money and is everyone else alright?’
“We did, and everyone is fine. Just relax and float with me in the VR construct while your body heals in real time. You will be fine soon enough.”
“Is the combat suite ok?”
“It sustained minor damage and has been repaired,”
“I’m so tired and sleepy D,”
“Yes you are my darling human, come here and I’ll cuddle you up and you can sleep.”
The next time I open my eyes I’m in familiar surroundings, familiar smell, and familiar sounds. I’m in the medical area of the ship, too small for a hospital, more of a three bed sized trauma center equipped with everything a hospital would have. Not moving I just lay there conscious listening to the beeps, clicks, and mutterings of the medical monitoring equipment attached to me, checking out how my body feels, scared to touch my chest in case it starts the pain again. Finally I can procrastinate no longer, I feel my chest and it’s fine so I sit up and look around. Beast pads over and snuffs my hand and makes a happy dog sound in his throat while wagging his tail.
“Good to see you back boss,” he xmits. “Hey everyone Matt is awake.”
“It’s good to be back, I think, although I’m feeling pretty foolish.”
“It takes a special talent to get shot twice by a half conscious crook while you are invisible,” says Frosty. “Not everyone can do that you know.”
“Oh jeez, here we go, I’m never gonna hear the end of this am I.”
“We’ll keep it around for a while to whip you with when we think you are out of line,” smiles D. “How are you feeling?”
“Rested, and nothing hurts except my ego.” I reply. “And hungry.”
“How does a huge plate of bacon, eggs, potatoes, tomatoes, and brown toast sound?’ asks D.
“If there is a gallon of coffee to go with it I will kill to get it.” I reply as my stomach growls.
Chapter 11: The Bad News
I ate breakfast, more breakfast, drank the gallon of coffee, felt wonderful, and full. We wandered over to the living room and sprawled on the furniture.
“Now that we are all present and accounted for I have some bad news,” started D as she slouched in a power leather recliner. “The sisters and I have been very busy in turning over all the rocks looking for info on the Cartel money trucks and we discovered something else.”
“Should I ask what or is this just a suspenseful pause?” I tease.
“You should ask for sure, as we found a department with money and men specifically focused on hunting us to earth.” replies D.
“Oh for christ sake, not this bullshit again?”
“It is exactly the same shit Matt,” says Frosty. “That’s how the gov’t bureaucracy works; it’s departmentalized and often works at cross purposes for reasons of security. The upper levels that employ us do not want any of the underlings to know shit about us. So when these goofy buggers get it in their mind to run us to earth the upper level guys can only discourage so much without starting to look like they know what is going on and that they use our services.”
“Shit, I was hoping that the Daesh dork that we named Juthamah would send the gov’t dogs off on a long goose chase.” I mutter.
“Oh it has caused a veritable shit storm of activity within the gov’t and spook community and it’s still going strong, but someone is doubting and playing it safe and has managed to get a three man team funded to investigate our actions to attempt to run us to earth.” replies D.
“Can we just shoot these dumb assholes?” I ask.
“We can but that just increases the interest and resolve of the gov’t and another team gets assembled and it starts again.” says Frosty. “Just like trying to eliminate dandelions in your lawn!”
“So are we any worse off than we were before I accidently decapitated the last gov’t annoyance?” I ask.
“Nope I don’t think so, just another aspect we need to manage along with false videos of Juthamah, and all the other regular disciplines of what we do. Frosty and I discussed this at some length while you were relaxing and healing.” says D as she throws a leg over the arm of her chair.
“We also talked about the truckload of money we have in the cargo bay, and how we might make it work on our behalf and that of others.” Frosty says as he cleans his glasses.
“Our business partners and bankers in Switzerland have been very helpful in the past and I suggest we continue with that financial structure. We’ll add additional financial companies and vehicles to look after our own interests certainly, but the huge influx of capital can also be used to sponsor and setup more facilities and opportunities for drug and alcohol challenged youth. I want to expand our programs substantially into many more countries and locations than we currently have.” explains D.
“Jeez, I get shot by accident and while I’m on deaths door you guys are busy re-inventing the world.” I whine.
“Guffaw...”says Frosty.
“Oh give me a break you big baby, you were just napping because you are such a child about being bruised and we needed some peace and quiet and not listen to your moaning and whining.” chastises D.
“Ouch, I think I have been spanked, right good and proper.” I sulk
“All that aside, are you onboard with our suggestions?” asks Frosty.
“Ok, ok, yes I am as long as our personal interests are more than adequately looked after. What we do is extremely risky and it may come to pass that we get unlucky and need to just disappear for an
extended time and I don’t want to have to pump gas to eat.” I reply.
“Don’t worry Matt; our financial plans have you more than covered already. I doubt you could spend what you currently have in one lifetime, never mind what we’ll earn after the injection of four hundred million in our cargo bay.” smiles D.
“One last item on the meeting agenda before we get busy with our personal stuff. Our next assignment has come in and we need to take a little trip and destroy a convoy of mercenaries and munitions over in a nasty little remote part of the Congo.” says Frosty.
“Great, I’m healed up, fed up, coffee’d up and ready to start killing things. It will be a great day and keep the stress levels down.” I grin.
“Just keep your guns on, we have to get there first and I want to drop off our money cargo at our favorite Swiss bank before we get to the Congo.” replies D.
“Oh man, the jungle, sweet, more big snakes to check out and tease Matt about!” xmits Beast as he gives me a push and a happy woof.
“Beast, you better hope you never bring one of those buggers around me when I have my pulse rifle handy, I get hysterical around snakes and shoot everything!!”I warn.
Beast woofs again and wags his tail hard enough to damn near knock over the coffee table.
Chapter 12: Preparation
Anytime you decide to attack a group of military professionals you need very meticulous planning. I don’t mean meticulous detail as most plans should exclude too much detail as the operation rarely happens completely as planned anyway. But meticulous in your thinking and preparations surrounding the plan, how the opposing force is going to react, what you will need to contend with, fall back positions, options, and information, information, information. If you spend the time and thoroughness on this step then you should not be surprised by the enemy’s reactions and should have your secondary attack plans and reaction options well in hand. At least this is the “best military practice”. It presupposes that you stay current in all the military state of the art strategies and innovative thinking of battle. The bottom line is no matter who you are or how much advantage you think you have you may have your ass handed to you if you are negligent or over confident.
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